Cross My Heart And Hope To Die
by Nerdy-Loves-You
Summary: "Don't say that, Gilbert. You know what that phrase does to me." "What phrase? Cross my heart and hope to-" He never finished that sentence, and never spoke another word.


He couldn't move; all he could do was stare at the wall, staring at the wall. _The Berlin Wall, _he hated everything about it. It not only separated families from each other, but it separated him from his only family.

"Prussia," he whispered, but the wind seemed to carry it away, into nothingness, as if to confirm what had happened, as if to confirm that no one would remember him. The blond sank to his knees, finally defeated. How was he supposed to live with such a decision, such a choice that tore families apart and caused them to do crazy things?

Just kneeling there, in the snow of East Berlin, he could hear the gunshots on the other side, of once German citizens trying to escape back to their families. And now they'd never see each other again, because of his past, because others were afraid of him falling back into Communism.

Germany kneeled there for a long time, waiting for the gun shots to die down and the crying and whimpering of the injured people on the other side. It was almost dark when that happened. He started to get up to leave, but something stopped him.

On the other side of the wall, there was a faint sound of footsteps on concrete. "But that's impossible," he told himself, turning to stare at the wall. "The only concrete is the wall itself and no one is actually crazy enough to-"

Over the top of the wall, he spotted some moving white snow. But wait, it wasn't snow. It was hair, white hair, his brother's hair. "Gilbert!" he shouted, running closer to the wall and looking up at him. He heard his older brother's familiar cackle as Germany watched him lift himself up.

"Long time no see, West. Mein Gott, you look awful. They feeding you over here? Well, they have to be feeding you more than stingy Russia is." His demeanor is cheerful, as it always was, but Germany can tell he's changed drastically from being over there just by his appearance.

Gilbert had always been strong, muscular even. Now he was just scrawny, pale, and sickly looking. It was hard for Germany to smile up at his older brother as if nothing was wrong, even if everything was falling to shit. "Gilbert, what the hell are you doing up there? You know as well as I do that that isn't allowed!"

The albino scoffed and rolled his eyes, resting his arms on the top of the wall. "And when was the last time I ever followed the rules? You of all people should remember my thoughts on rules."

Germany was surprised. There was no sign of hatred in his voice, no sign of betrayed feelings anywhere. "Yeah," he said slowly. "But, Gil, can I just say how sorry I am that I got you into this mess. It really is my fault that you-"

"Shut up, it's not your fault, baby bro," he interrupted firmly. "Sure, everyone makes some mistakes, but it's not like you told them to put up this damned wall and for Russia to be an ass. Don't stress yourself out, West, I'll get out of this just fine, I always do."

"Are you sure?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Prussia reassured him, smirking. Germany couldn't help but shudder. That phrase always got to him for some reason. Even when they were kids, Prussia would say it just to taunt him.

"Gilbert, you know very well what that phrase does to me. Don't swear on your life, lives are fragile," he warned carefully.

Prussia laughed again and gripped the wall, leaning backwards daringly. "What phrase? Cross my heart and hope to-"

He never finished those words. Germany had no idea what happened, but he heard the crack of a shotgun, and he saw the bullet hit his brother's skull. The white hair that he had always teased Prussia about was quickly tinted red and he watched as the color drained from his crimson eyes. Everything happened in slow motion as Prussia fell backwards and out of sight, followed by a few dozen shouts of Russian soldiers.

He was frozen to the ground, staring at the spot Gilbert had been. And suddenly, he was on the move. He jumped and was trying to scale the wall, in hysterics. He cried out for his brother, like he was a child again. "Gilbert, Gilbert please come back!" he screamed through his hot tears, tearing at the concrete with his bare and bloody hands.

As soon as he made progress, he slipped and fell face first into the snow. He knew it was no use anymore. He had to accept that Prussia was dead, for good this time. He buried his face in his hands and cried again. He didn't care who saw now, not holding anything in.

It was his fault, his fault that his brother was over there, and his fault that his brother's last words would be _"Cross my heart and hope to die." _He stayed like that for a while, shaking as the sun went down and the wind rolled in. He was still there in the morning when his friends found him.

**A/N: Oh gosh, this has already gotten two reviews and like, no one really reviews my stories except my friends or people asking about when I'm writing a new chapter. This was new for me, writing as Germany, so I wasn't sure how I'd do… Glad people like it and hopefully I'll be able to write more like this, if people give me ideas… .**


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